Bellarke Princess Bride
by cilepe
Summary: The first time she'd barked an order at him, his eyes had burned with an angry fire. "Whatever you say, princess," he had snapped back, leaving Clarke speechless and inexplicably fascinated. Or, The Princess Bride AU. Bellarke.


**A/N: Firstly, I do not own either The 100 or The Princess Bride. Secondly, I apologize if this is choppy or jumpy. I wrote it in a huge hurry in one night because the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Thirdly, some dialogue is quoted (as best I can remember) from the movie, some from the book, and from the show.**

Clarke Griffin grew up on a quiet farm. Her family wasn't poor, but they weren't rich, either. That didn't keep Clarke from antagonizing the farm hand her father had hired. The first time she'd barked an order at him, his eyes had burned with an angry fire. "Whatever you say, princess," he had snapped back, leaving Clarke speechless and inexplicably fascinated.

* * *

"Anything else, princess?" Bellamy asked, setting one last armful of firewood next to the stove.

Clarke glanced up at him, smiling faintly. The nickname was no longer an insult. In fact, as she continued to hold Bellamy's gaze, she realized he was really saying 'I love you.'

Eyes still locked together, Clarke took a step toward him, then another, then another, stopping right in front of him, craning her neck upward. He was so tall. "Just this," she said softly, standing on her tiptoes as she tentatively pressed her lips to his.

Bellamy froze. A moment later, he had his arms wrapped around Clarke, holding her tightly pressed against him, kissing her like it was the first and last time.

Neither of them had money enough to marry, so it was with a heavy heart that Bellamy left Clarke and his little sister Octavia behind to seek his fortunes across the sea.

Months passed with no word. One day, a bedraggled man knocked on the door, bearing a message. Bellamy's ship had run afoul of the Dread Pirate Lexa. Clarke and Octavia collapsed into each other's arms. The Dread Pirate Lexa never left survivors.

* * *

Bellamy's death hit Clarke hard. She shut down, barely going through the motions of living. Days passed where she neither ate nor drank. Octavia tried her best to help the woman she'd come to consider her big sister, but nothing seemed to make a difference.

As she was out picking Clarke's favorite wildflowers one day, Octavia found herself held tightly against something, someone, with a strong hand clamped over her mouth, being dragged into a clump of trees.

"I am not going to harm you, Octavia, but you should not be roaming the land alone. Prince Finn is on the search for a bride and he seeks only the fairest maidens for his consideration. I will not let you fall into his clutches."

Octavia stopped struggling and turned her head to look at her captor. "You're Trikru," she whispered, noting the black marking that adorned the man's face.

"I _was_ Trikru," he corrected. "Now I am nothing, no one."

Octavia's response was cut off by the clatter of hooves.

"I grow impatient with this search, Marcus."

"I assure you, your Highness, it will be over soon. This maiden's beauty surpasses that of any princess. Her farm is just beyond the stream."

"If you fail me again, Marcus..."

"Your Highness, Clarke Griffin is the most beautiful woman in your kingdom."

* * *

"Clarke!" Octavia shrieked once the horses had disappeared and her captor removed his hand from her mouth. "I have to get back there!"

* * *

A heavy knock sounded on the Griffins' door. Jake uneasily answered. Visitors were no longer a pleasure. They only seemed to bring bad news.

Count Marcus Kane cleared his throat as the door opened. "His Royal Highness, Prince Finn Collins."

Jake dropped to his knees, his wife following suit in the background. "It is an unexpected honor, my lords. What can we do for you?"

Finn strode into the kitchen. "I've heard that your daughter is the most beautiful woman in the kingdom. I should like to make her acquaintance."

The Griffins exchanged uneasy looks. "As you wish, your Highness." Jake stood, dusting off his trousers as he headed for Clarke's room.

After a long, uncomfortable silence in the kitchen, Jake emerged, a subdued Clarke trailing behind him. Not even the appearance of Skaikru's prince could spark her interest.

Finn studied Clarke for a moment before nodding at Marcus. The count loudly requested a tour of the farm, leaving the prince and the girl alone.

"I shall marry you," Finn declared.

"No," Clarke replied.

"Then I shall kill you."

"I don't care."

Finn was stumped for a moment. "Then I shall kill your parents instead."

Clarke finally raised her eyes to meet the prince's. "Why do you want me?"

He shrugged. "The king feels my marriage will be a morale boost for the people as we face the growing possibility of war with Trikru. You are beautiful. I have not found anyone else half so suitable."

"I will never love you."

Finn shrugged again. "That hardly matters."

"Very well."

Clarke was numb as the prince announced their engagement to her parents. Her life had ended with Bellamy's, but perhaps her appearance could help her people.

It was evening as Finn mounted his horse, placing Clarke carefully in front of him. "Ride ahead, Marcus. You know what to do."

"Smile, Princess. This is meant to be a joyous occasion." Finn tapped his heels against the horse's flanks and they were off.

Clarke was thankful that the motion of the horse and the darkness hid her tears at Finn's casual use of the nickname Bellamy had given her.

* * *

Octavia burst from the shrubbery moments later. "Mr. Griffin! What happened? Where's Clarke gone?"

The aging farmer looked sadly at his near-daughter. "She's gone, Octavia. Hopefully to a better life."

Octavia frowned, her gaze drifting back toward the trees where she'd been held. The Griffins wouldn't do anything to get Clarke back, but she would. And she knew exactly who she would get to help her.

* * *

The only faint pleasure Clarke found at the castle was her daily ride. Finn positively encouraged her to go out, as far as she'd like, claiming the color she had on her return was most becoming. Whatever his reason, Clarke was thankful he did not object. She was stifled inside the stone walls. Etiquette lessons she couldn't care less about, memorizing lists of names of nobility, the prince's lineage, which gown was appropriate to wear when. It was all so meaningless.

Clarke never took the same route two days in a row. There was too much to see and the natural beauty around her was almost enough to keep her thoughts from drifting to Bellamy.

It was unusual for her to encounter anyone on her rides, so Clarke was quite unprepared to see three men standing purposefully under a tree. She pulled up as one, apparently the leader, stepped forward. "Pardon me. We are but poor, lost actors. Is there a village nearby?"

She doubted his sincerity straight away, but saw no harm in speaking the truth. "There is nothing nearby, not for miles."

"Then there will be no one to hear you scream." As he spoke, another of his men came up behind Clarke, pricking her leg through her skirts. A moment later and the world swam around her before going black.

When she came to, it was night. It took her a moment to realize she was on a boat—she'd never been sailing before. Faint voices caught her attention and she kept her eyes closed, hoping to overhear something useful.

"I don't think it's right to kill her!" one voice exclaimed.

"You were not hired for your brains." A long pause. "Well, you were, but you were not hired for making the plans. I make the plans. Got it?"

"I agree with Monty!"

"And why does your opinion matter, you drunken moron? I'm the one who's going to kill her."

The voices fell silent once more.

"You're sure nobody followed us?" the 'drunken moron' said.

"Completely inconceivable. No one except the prince knows what we've done. Even if someone did, no one could have caught up with us." The leader paused. "Why?"

"I just happened to turn around and another ship happened to be there."

"Probably a farmer out for a pleasure cruise...at night...through eel-infested waters."

Clarke took advantage of the distraction to slip overboard. Where she was heading she had no idea, she just had to get away. She wasn't about to sit there and let herself be killed.

Strong strokes had her yards away from the boat before a strange shrieking noise caused her to stop. It was coming from every direction. It was probably her eyes playing tricks on her, but the water seemed to be slithering. Something brushed against her foot.

"You know what that sound is, Highness? Those are the shrieking eels. They get louder right before they feed."

She tried to ignore the man, moving another foot or so away.

"Swim back now and no harm will come to you. I doubt you'll get that offer from the eels."

Clarke opened her mouth to retort when an eel charged at her, causing her to scream instead.

The next thing Clarke knew, she was back on the boat, hands tied, covered in a thin blanket. "You almost cost me my paycheck, Highness. I suppose you think you're brave."

She shook her head. "I'm just trying to survive."

The man sneered. "So am I. So is Monty. So is Jasper." Turning away, he strode to the opposite end of the boat, glaring out in the distance at the ship that was indeed following them. It was gaining.

"Murphy...he's a real jerk," the one called Jasper whispered conspiratorially.

Monty cocked his head. "Every so often he goes berserk."

"Shut up, you two!" Murphy yelled.

"Monty, are there rocks ahead?"

This time Monty grinned. "If there are, we'll all be dead!"

Murphy groaned.

By dawn, Clarke could see they were at the cliffs that marked the border between Trikru and Skaikru. Murphy was cackling like a hyena about how clever their next move was and how nobody could possibly figure out how it worked, no matter how close behind that 'nobody' was.

Clarke hardly paid attention to her captors. Her eyes were drawn to man dressed in black who was only minutes behind them now. She couldn't explain it, but she felt he was looking only at her and that nothing would stop him from catching up.

Suddenly, they were at the top of the cliffs and Murphy was ordering Jasper to stay behind and deal with their pursuer. Monty led Clarke ahead, offering her a sympathetic smile. "We're not usually murderers. I'm sorry."

"Forgive me if that doesn't make me feel any better."

Monty hung his head. "I can't really blame you. It's not like you asked for a fiance who wanted to murder you to start a war."

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him. "This was Finn's doing?"

Monty grew fearful. "Murphy's gonna kill me." He snapped his mouth shut and refused to speak another word.

Murphy joined them a few minutes later and they kept walking. "Inconceivable!" Murphy murmured, seeing a glimpse of the man in black following close behind. He grabbed Clarke roughly and shoved her ahead of him. "Finish him your way!" he hissed at Monty before taking off.

Monty looked around dumbly for a moment until he realized what that meant. He was good at making things explode. It didn't seem fair, though, not giving this masked man a fighting chance. He nodded once. Skill against skill. It was only sportsmanlike.

* * *

The wait was agonizing for Clarke, who was now blindfolded as well as bound. Murphy shoved her onto a boulder and proceeded to arrange something. Clarke wasn't quite sure what, but she sensed the moment when the man in black appeared. Murphy tensed and held a blade to her throat.

"If you want her dead, keep walking."

"Surely we can come to some arrangement."

"You're trying to kidnap what I have rightfully stolen. No deal. And you're killing her." A drop of red appeared at the tip of his knife and Clarke couldn't keep back a sharp gasp of pain and fear.

"Then we're at an impasse."

"We are."

Clarke tuned out, fisting her hands in her skirt. She caught a few words about wits and poison, but Murphy's rambling was too convoluted for her to follow in her current state. All she could think about right now was who she was going to be leaving behind. She'd promised Bellamy she would look after Octavia. She'd broken that promise and now she was going to die, too. Maybe she deserved it.

She was brought back to the present by surprisingly gentle hands removing her blindfold. The man in black stood before her, frowning. Before she'd caught more than a glimpse of him, she was once more pulled to her feet and told to run.

Seeing no other option, Clarke ran until he stopped her. "Rest." He tossed a canteen at her. "Drink."

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

"No questions, Highness. Drink while you can. We'll be moving again soon."

Clarke wanted nothing more than to dump the canteen down the man's perfectly tailored black shirt, but she wasn't foolish enough to actually do it. She needed to drink.

The moment she had finished, she was pulled to her feet once more and they ran again.

At the next stop, Clarke questioned him again. When that failed to earn a response, she threatened him. "The prince is an excellent tracker. He will find you and then he will kill you for laying a hand on me." She was bluffing, since Finn apparently wanted her dead, but hopefully the man in black didn't know that.

"You think your dearest love will save you?" the man spat, turning to face the steep hill just below them.

"He's not my dearest love but he will save me."

"You do not love your fiance. What could _you_ know of love?"he turned back, fire in his brown eyes.

Clarke growled. His eyes reminded her of Bellamy's the first time she'd spoken to him. "I've loved more deeply than a man like you could ever dream."

"Please. You abandoned your 'love' the moment a better prospect showed up at your door."

Clarke's hand flew toward the masked man's face. "You mock my pain!"

"Not so fast, princess." He caught her wrist midair.

Clarke's jaw dropped. She knew that voice better than she knew her own. "Bellamy," she breathed, hurling herself at him with enough force to send them both tumbling down the hill.

Finally coming to a halt, Bellamy was instantly hovering over Clarke, checking her for injuries. "Can you move at all?"

Clarke responded with a chuckle as she gazed into his eyes. "Move? You're alive. If you want I could fly."

"I told you I'd come back for you. Why didn't you wait for me?" He looked so hurt, so vulnerable.

She swallowed thickly. "Bell. You were dead."

He shook his head. "Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it a little while."

"I will never doubt again."

"There will never be a need," he said, capturing her lips with his own.

* * *

Clarke shot an incredulous stare at Bellamy. "Cut through Reaper territory? That's your plan? We'll never survive."

"Nonsense. You're just saying that because no one ever has." He gave her a trademark smirk which made her roll her eyes.

* * *

Days later, bloody, filthy, and exhausted, Bellamy and Clarke emerged on the other side of Reaper territory, the first known survivors.

Relieved to be alive and relatively unharmed, Clarke reached up to stroke Bellamy's jaw. "We made it," she whispered in awe.

Bellamy just smiled at her and pulled her in for a kiss.

"Surrender!" Finn's voice rang out through the trees, causing Clarke and Bellamy to spring apart.

"You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept." Bellamy brandished his sword, keeping Clarke tucked behind him.

Clarke turned her head, eyeing the prince's archers that surrounded them. She'd lost Bellamy once; she wasn't going to lose him again. "Promise not to hurt him!" she cried, stepping out from her love's shadow.

Both men whipped their heads around, demanding her to repeat herself.

Head held high, Clarke repeated herself. "Promise not to hurt him. This man rescued me from murderers. He should be rewarded, not punished. I will return with you and you promise that you and your men will leave him alone."

Bellamy looked at Clarke, hurt and admiration struggling for dominance in his expression. "Clarke-,"

"I thought you were dead once and it nearly destroyed me. I couldn't bear it if you died again." She bit her lip as she looked up at him, silently begging him to understand.

He inclined his head imperceptibly, understanding her thoughts. Maybe if he got enough of a head start, he could hold out long enough to come back for Clarke.

Finn had had enough. "Very well." He waved his hand and the soldiers withdrew. He turned his horse toward Clarke and leaned over to Marcus. "Once we're out of sight, hunt him down. No witnesses."

Marcus nodded.

Finn drew up next to Clarke, but she refused to mount until Bellamy had disappeared from sight, retreating back into Reaper territory. She knew Finn wouldn't really let Bellamy go. Not after he'd seen them kiss.

As they rode away, Clarke caught a glimpse of Kane's face. He looked afraid, and Clarke didn't blame him. No one sane would choose to go through Reaper territory. Maybe, if they got lucky, Marcus would just wait a few days and then lie about making sure Bellamy was dead.

If they got very, very, lucky, Bellamy wouldn't be dead after going through Reapers a second time.

* * *

Clarke tried not to count the days. There was no way to tell whether Bellamy had made it or not. It wasn't as though she didn't have anything else to worry about, either. Finn had persuaded the king to move the wedding forward to coincide with Skaikru's 500th anniversary. She had endless fittings and public appearances, followed by nights tormented by nightmares of Bellamy being torn to bits and eaten alive, or worse, deciding not to come back for her.

Finally, the wedding day dawned. Clarke rose with the sun, taking a seat at her window. The maids would be along when it was time for her to dress. Until then, she would be watching, hoping, praying, for Bellamy's return.

* * *

It should have been easier to get through the Reapers without Clarke by his side, but it had been the complete opposite. He'd lost his sword on the first day, his gun on the second. Left weaponless, he'd resorted to climbing trees, hoping to keep high enough to avoid being spotted while low enough to move from tree to tree. It was slow going and he was worried that one of the disfigured creatures that lived in the trees would suddenly decide to eat him.

He was close enough to hope he'd make it when the arrow hit him. Bellamy lost his grip and plummeted to the forest floor. He couldn't see who'd fired, but he wasn't going to stick around any longer. He'd get out of this forest or die trying.

With each step, he got dizzier. The world around him distorted and he finally collapsed. This was it. He really was going to die and Clarke would never know. "Clarke," he muttered before passing out.

* * *

Bellamy awoke suddenly, disoriented. He shouldn't be in a bed, next to a roaring fire, in a hut, looking up at his little sister. "I'm dead. I'm dead," he repeated, closing his eyes.

A warm hand took one of his. "You're not dead, Bell. You're alive. You're alive and I'm going to make sure you stay that way."

"O?" he asked, still not quite believing.

Octavia grinned at him and a moment later had herself wrapped around him. "I missed you, big brother."

All he could do was nod. Maybe he was hallucinating, maybe this was real, but either way, he wasn't going to let go anytime soon.

He must have dozed off with Octavia in his arms because the next thing Bellamy knew, he was staring down a tough looking man. His sudden tensing woke his sister and she grumbled about having to move when she was just getting comfortable. When her eyes finally opened and she realized what must be going through her brother's mind, she jumped off the bed.

"It's ok, Bell. We're safe here. This is Lincoln. He saved your life."

Bellamy narrowed his eyes. "He's Trikru."

Octavia shook her head. "He's lived here for a long time, Bell. He isn't going to hurt us."

Lincoln grimaced. "I will not intentionally hurt you," he said. "I saw you in the trees near the edge of Reaper territory and thought you were a Reaper who had wandered too near civilization. I shot you."

Bellamy took a moment to process that information. "And then you changed your mind?"

"Octavia was following me. She recognized you. Once I determined you were not a Reaper, I brought you here. The arrow was poisoned. Without the antidote, you would be dead now."

"I hate to drop this on you, big brother, but Prince Finn has Clarke. The wedding is tomorrow. We have to stop it."

Lincoln gave Octavia a scolding look. "He is not strong enough."

Bellamy took a deep breath and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. "I'll be fine."

He managed to stand for ten seconds before his legs gave way and he landed back on the bed. He groaned.

Octavia shot Lincoln a pleading look and he frowned again. "There is something I can give you to restore your strength, but the effect is temporary and can wear off with no warning."

Bellamy nodded fiercely. "Give it to me."

* * *

The three came to a halt just outside the castle's outermost walls. Lincoln propped Bellamy up and instructed him to open his mouth. "Remember, this drug is potent and unpredictable. I cannot estimate how long the effect will last. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

Bellamy swallowed the bitter mixture with only minor complaint. "How long until it kicks in?"

Lincoln shrugged. "It is different for each person."

Suddenly, Bellamy jumped to his feet. "I've always been a quick healer. We need to disperse those guards."

Octavia grinned. "I have an idea."

* * *

Castle guard Shumway thought he heard something, like a cart creaking. He listened intently for a moment, then dismissed it as his imagination.

Whispers began stirring throughout the ranks. "Did you hear that?" "It must be nothing." "Wait, there it is again!"

Whispers turned into shouts as a cloaked figure appeared. "I am the Dread Pirate Lexa! There will be no survivors!"

The guards were quivering in their boots, but held their position as ordered. At least until the figure exploded in flames. The dark markings on its face seemed to take on a life of their own in the flickering light and all the guards, except Shumway, fled in terror.

Bellamy strode up to the man. "Gate key," he demanded.

"I don't have a gate key."

"O, cut his tongue out."

"Oh, you mean this gate key," Shumway stammered, reaching into his coat pocket.

Bellamy smiled a fearful smile and knocked the man unconscious. "Hurry."

Followed by Octavia and the now extinguished Lincoln, the three ran through the gate toward the chapel.

* * *

The bells in the chapel rang out one, two, three times, signaling all the wedding guests to take their seats.

Prince Finn stood before the altar, a faint smile on his face. He'd thought paying Murphy's gang to kidnap and kill Clarke had been clever, but as it turned out, strangling her on their wedding night was going to be far more motivating. Throughout the kingdom, guards were on the watch for Trikru spies and tomorrow morning, when Clarke's body was found with Trikru symbols painted on her face, war would be inevitable.

Clarke appeared at the chapel doors, paler than she'd even been. She hadn't given up hope entirely. Bellamy would come for her, no matter what. But it would have to be soon because judging by Finn's smile, she didn't have much longer to live.

It took every once of her willpower to step forward and walk down the aisle. She felt a chill as Finn took her hand and they both knelt before the clergyman.

"Marriage. Marriage is what brings us together today."

Clarke's ear caught the faint sounds of a scuffle. Finn had heard it too. With a nod, he sent Marcus to investigate.

"So treasure your love."

Finn was growing impatient. "Skip to the end."

"Have you the rings?"

Finn held up his hand and slid a golden band onto Clarke's finger. She swallowed and mimicked the motion while Finn smiled in cruel triumph. "Man and wife," Finn ordered.

The clergyman looked perplexed, but his objection was cut off. "Man and wife," he repeated.

Finn stood, dragging Clarke up with him.

The chapel doors burst open and Bellamy stood silhouetted in the doorway. "I object."

Clarke yanked her hand free from Finn's grip and ran to her love. "Bellamy!"

Bellamy hugged her tight for only a moment. He met Finn's angry gaze with a steely one of his own.

"To the death?" Finn asked, almost conversationally, drawing his sword.

Bellamy shook his head. "No. To the pain."

Finn's face fell. "I'm not familiar with that term."

"To the pain means you lose your feet at the ankles, your hands at the wrists, your left eye followed by your right."

Finn rolled his eyes. "And then my tongue and my ears. Let's get on with it."

Once more Bellamy shook his head. "Your ears you keep and I'll tell you why. So that every insult, every shriek of terror at your approach, every murmured oath, will echo forever in your perfect ears."

The prince thought for a moment. "I think you're bluffing."

Bellamy took a step forward. "It's possible." Another step. "I might be bluffing." Another step and he was towering over the prince. "But I'm not." He raised his sword.

"Bellamy!" Clarke cried as he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Finn's lips curled up in a truly evil grin and he leaned over his helpless victim. "I never lose."

Finn hadn't even noticed Clarke was standing next to him until he felt a sharp twist in his side. Clarke's hand came away clutching a bloody knife. "I didn't want this, Finn, but you gave me no choice."

Prince Finn Collins collapsed on the floor, his white doublet stained with red where Clarke had stabbed him.

Clarke dropped the knife with a clatter just as Octavia and Lincoln breathlessly burst in. Octavia took one look and hurried to Clarke's side, taking her hands. She inclined her head at her brother and Lincoln easily hefted Bellamy to his shoulders and the four of them strode out of the castle unhindered.

* * *

"You don't have to leave, Bell," Octavia said softly, knowing that it wasn't true.

"We do, O. They'll never stop looking for the prince's murderer." Bellamy cast a worried glance at Clarke. "Everyone in the kingdom knows what she looks like."

"Stay safe," she whispered, hugging her brother tightly one last time.

"You, too," Bellamy instructed, speaking to Octavia but looking at Lincoln. Lincoln nodded. He would protect Octavia to his dying breath.

Octavia gave Clarke a gentle goodbye, knowing that if anyone could get her through this, it was Bellamy.

She leaned against Lincoln as his arm stole around her waist. "Do you think they'll make it?"

"I can only hope," he stated.

* * *

"Bellamy," Clarke said, the first words she'd spoken since Finn's death.

"I'm right here, Clarke," he said, stopping to look at her.

"I'm not okay," she said sadly, meeting his brown eyes with her blue ones. "But if you're with me, I will be."

Bellamy didn't speak. He pulled Clarke into his arms.

Since the invention of the kiss, there have have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.


End file.
